The Break in the Bones
by hopestar789
Summary: The events, musings, and impervious breaches that occurred during the break in time that spanned from "The Hole in the Heart" until "The Change in the Game."
1. The Change in the Spot

"Can you just…?"

"Yeah, of course." Booth leaned back, tucking Bones into his arms. "That's what I'm here for." Her hands rested on his chest, clenched, and they jumped with each sob. The force of her sobs racked his ribcage with her, and he felt again that rage, that inexhaustible hate, that this happened. That this happened to her.

Broadksy would go down for it. And Booth would be the one to do it. But, until then, all Booth could do was hold her. Hold her and let her cry.

"I'm sorry. I know it's hard." His hand ran up and down her back. "I'm sorry."

"What kind of person am I?" The croak against his shirt caused another spasm of tears as Bones pulled into herself.

"Bones, I'm telling you, what he said had nothing to do with –"

"No, it's…I…" A small hiccup shook her frame under his palm. "What he said was just one factor, one part of my evaluation."

Booth shook his head, his chin brushing against her hair. "Bones, trust me, I know exactly who you are." The echo rang in his ears, the echo from another time when he'd held a crying Temperance Brennan years before, and he couldn't help but wonder at them, the two of them and what they had gone through. Endured. How she had grown and changed. What she had become. What they had become to each other. He couldn't say what it was, but he sensed his life was like all these dangling strings, each string a different part of him, and that, ever since that first day he'd seen her on the lecture podium, those strings grew more and more tangled with hers. Even when he fought against it, tried to break the ties, establish a new life with Hannah, the tangles knotted and jerked him back.

Yeah, he knew exactly who she was. Because so much of what she was, what she needed, made up what he was too.

"You don't understand."

"What don't I understand?" His hold on her tightened. Booth hated himself for how his mind sprinted to an image from that alternate life he had concocted while in a coma, sprinted to how his arms had wrapped around her in his dreams. He hated how good it felt now that this wasn't a dream. How good it felt to hold her in his bed.

"I was _glad_. When I saw the blood, when I saw that it belonged to Vincent, I was _glad_." She shivered against him. "I was glad it wasn't you."

His breath hitched, and a warmth flooded his core.

Bones lifted her face, her porcelain skin streaked red, soft hair clumped to a wet cheek, and looked at him. "What kind of person does that make me?"

Booth swallowed, the air suddenly heavy and hot against his throat. There was a magnetic current to it that rippled above them, something sharp and tangible. He stared into those eyes, and he swore he could see the ring of green, the ring of green that emerged from the blue when she cracked open the walls to herself.

He was dazzled by it.

"Bones," his voice broke, and he brushed a hand against her face, his fingers entwined in her hair. The simple touch turned his own bones to some gelatinous mush, mush he saw more often than not on her examination table. It would be so easy, so easy to reach up and kiss her, taste her.

A single tear rolled off of her cheek and onto his shirt.

Booth smiled then and brought his finger down to her chin, tilted it so that he could look straight into her eyes.

"You're the best kind of person. You're the best person I've ever met."

Her eyebrows narrowed, creating a folded v above her nose, the same one he'd seen when he informed her she was staying at his place tonight. It was a sign that she was processing, probably identifying the exact logic and arguments behind his conclusions. And Booth was hit again by the same certainty he'd felt in that conference room as she tried to leave, the certainty that he could not let her out of his sight. Not tonight.

Because, even when things were hard between them, even when it was all tangled up and confusing and just a goddamn mess, nothing could happen to her. That was his first thought, his first priority. Always had been.

That was an easy truth, and it made it easier for him to breathe, knowing that and looking at her. Booth's smile pressed against the sides of his face, and Bones smiled back at him and nodded.

"Thank you, Booth."

Booth knew how this ended. She would tuck herself back into his side, safe and warm. They would sleep, comforted by their partnership, comforted by each other, and wake up in the same spots they were in right now, the bed molded under them.

But he didn't want to wake up in the same spot he was in now. Because, no matter what he thought, no matter where they holed up, no matter what he did tomorrow, something could happen to her. Something could happen to him. Hell, forget Broadsky. He could wake up in the morning and someone could T-bone him on the drive to the Hoover. But Broadsky had made all that crystal clear. Because that bullet, the blood Bones saw today, all of that should have been for him.

That fear drove everything else away. It leeched the anger from his muscles and his mind, and all that was left was the urgent need not to wake up in the same spot he was in now. The same spot he'd occupied for almost 7 years.

So, when she did lean down and fold herself back into his side, when her blue eyes with the green left his, Booth took a breath. "Bones, you are the best person. You are the only person."

Bones stirred in his arms, pushed back, and her eyes searched his when he gazed down. "Booth?"

"I know." His voice settled low in his chest, and he swallowed. "I know I said I was angry, and I know you're working at being stronger, and we might not be there yet. I get that. But I just need you to know this, okay? You don't have to say anything. I just need you to know exactly what kind of person you are. The kind of person you are to me."

"Booth, I…"

His voice scratched at his throat. "You are the only person. You are the only person to me. The only person for me."

Bones glanced away, and another rogue tear escaped and slid down her face. Booth's throat was raw and ragged, and he felt old, old and worn.

"Booth, I…"

"No, Bones, you don't have to say anything –"

"No, Booth, I do." She looked back to him again. "I do."

He could hear the rush of his heart beating in his ears.

Bones gripped his shirt, pushed it back with the flat of her palm. Her face crumpled, and more tears gushed forth, but her eyes lifted and held his again. They swirled and dipped, as deep and powerful as a riptide.

"I…I...my hypothesis was wrong. I have evidence of that now, strong evidence. I've reached a conclusion, one I have to share…"

A heaviness settled in his joints, and Booth catapulted back to the night when he gambled it all. _I'm a scientist…_ But still, this was the risk he took. He'd tried this before, rolled his dice, and come away with an empty hand. Tonight wasn't her fault. After all, wasn't the definition of insanity doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome? It wasn't her goddamn fault. He could not let her hurt for it, not on top of all the other hurt hanging in the dark. "Bones, it's okay. I promise."

"No, Booth, no!" Bones shook in his arms. "I'm a scientist, and scientists are compelled to share their conclusions with their peers. I have to share my conclusion. I have to share my conclusion with you."

Booth's lungs constricted and felt solid, leaden, and he forced himself to exhale. "What conclusion, Bones?"

"I…" Tears seeped from the corners of her eyes. Bones shook her head, trembled, and turned back to him. She looked miserable. "I love you."

Time stopped. Booth stopped breathing, and the blood froze in his veins. The air zipped and cracked, and then Bones was against his chest, sobbing, rocking against him. His arms moved of their own will, wrapped her close to him, and then his nose was in her hair, breathing her warm scent. His chest constricted. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think.

_I love you_.

His thoughts fragmented. Bones sobbed into his chest while thousands of moments hurled through his mind.

_Love is a chemical process which causes delusion._

_You believe that love is transcendent and eternal…I want to believe that too._

_I can't change! I don't know how._

She had broken. Bones had broken. He had worn her down for years, and in the tumult of this night, of Vincent's death, she snapped. For some reason, for one brief moment, Booth felt sad. He had altered her, changed her. He had broken her.

"It's okay," he murmured. It was all he could do to hold on. Booth supposed most guys would probably be a bit alarmed if a woman confessed her love and then dissolved into a verified water spigot. But Booth knew. He knew what this had taken from her. What he had taken. The last of it. The last of her imperviousness. He had put her at risk. And that was his fault too.

After a few minutes, the tears subsided, and Bones stilled. The dark stretched out over them like a blanket, wrapped around them, cocooned them from the outside world. Bones pulled away so that she could look at him again, balanced on her forearm. Her voice was small, factual, but a smile ghosted across her face. "Do you love me?"

That was all it took. That was all it took for Booth to break. Air filled his lungs, and the blood rushed to the tips of his toes and his fingers. The sensation of age warped into an electricity he hadn't felt in himself in years. She wasn't the only one who changed. He had changed. He had changed for her. They had changed together, tangled and knotted up in each other.

Booth cupped her face with his palm, ran the other through her hair. A moisture gathered at the corner of his own eyes. He nodded, traced the line of her cheekbone with his thumb. "Yeah. I do." A half grin stretched across his face. "Do you want me to prove it to you?"

The gamble had been issued again, the dice tossed into the air, but this time Booth knew how they were going to fall.

_Everything happens eventually. _

_Everything?_

_All the good stuff. And when you think it never happens, it happens. Just got to be ready for it._

"Yeah." Bones nodded, and her fingers scraped against his side. "If you won't be too sleepy. For when you go after Broadsky tomorrow."

Before, time had stopped and cracked. Now it was fluid as he rolled on top of her, buried his face in her neck, kissed his way across her collarbone. A gasp slipped from her, and her head tilted up, giving him access to the soft skin under her chin. Her hands traversed the span of his back and under his shirt, and the heat of her touch ignited his blood until it ran as hot as lava. Then her hands left him, bunched at the base of the sweatshirt she'd borrowed, and pulled it over her head. Booth leaned back long enough for her to toss it to the floor.

The sight of her, breasts heaving, spilling over top of her black bra, anchored him for one moment. This was a moment he had savored once while hooked to tubes and lost to the world, but, after that one night outside the Hoover, he thought it was a moment he would only get to savor in his imagination. And it wasn't the state of near nudity that knocked the air from his chest. It was her eyes. Always her eyes. It was the look in them, the look of confidence, of trust. Of love.

He took her hand, wove his fingers with hers. Booth leaned forward and, for the first time since he made that ill-timed gamble, kissed her lips. The taste of salt mingled with something sweet, something like a slice of orange, something uniquely her. Her lips parted, and he leaned forward on his elbow to gain greater access as he explored her mouth. Her tongue danced with his, and she clutched his hand tighter in her own and pulled him closer.

This. This is all he ever wanted. To kiss her and taste her. They hadn't decided anything, not really, but they had broken that barrier. And he would give her everything, everything that was in his power to give.

She bit at his bottom lip as he pulled back to grab at his own shirt. "Bones," was all that escaped him. Her lidded eyes looked up at the murmur of her name. She leaned forward with him, placed her hands over his, and lifted his shirt over his head. While she was sitting up, she folded her arms behind her back and undid the clasp of her bra. It fell off, and Booth swallowed.

Imagination was nothing compared to the facts.

Bones ran the pads of her fingers over Booth's chest, under his arms, and to the trenches of his back. She pulled him down over her again, and he kissed her, kissed her mouth, her nose, her shoulder. His hand danced over her stomach and up to the peak of her breast. Her breath spiked as he squeezed and fondled, and her fingers pulled at his hair when his thumb tweaked her nipple. He leaned down and took it into his mouth.

"Booth." The anguished sound of his name breaking across her lips just made him suck against her harder. He then moved attention to her neglected breast, and her knee rose to his side as he continued his ministrations.

"Booth." This time, her voice was insistent, demanding, as she pulled him back up to her and wrapped one arm around him, hooking him to her. Her other hand slipped under his boxers and grasped his shaft.

For such a strong, skilled woman, Booth had always marveled at the slender, delicate fingers that made up Bones' small hands. And to now have those fingers wrap around him, squeeze him, move up and down his length was almost too much for him to take.

"Oh god. Bones."

Her touch was new, but her patterns, her movement, they reminded him of rediscovering a favorite song that you had forgotten you knew, the words flitting at the back of your brain. He had known her for so long, uncovered parts of her that he hadn't known to ever look for, that their dance wasn't the rush of new discovery but the reconnection of parts forged to work together.

A desperation tore through him, a desperation for more. Booth clenched the panties bunched at her hip and slipped out of her reach so that he could slide them down her long legs. He grazed the inside of her thighs and pressed one finger, then two, inside her wet core. Her hips rocked, and he took them out before inserting them again. She slammed her palm into his headboard with a gasp. He leaned down and flicked his tongue across her clit and sucked as he fingered her. After only a few minutes, he felt her walls tremor around him as she arched off the bed. "Booth!"

The sight of Bones unraveled nearly undid him. After she fell from her peak, he slipped out of his boxers and covered her body with his once more. He groaned at the feeling of his erection pressing against her warmth, but he didn't have long to be lost to that feeling. Bones flipped them both over so that she balanced over him, using her new position to put her mouth to his pulse point. Her hair fell over her face, and Booth brushed it back, wrapped his fingers in it. It was so soft. Everything about her was soft, warm, nothing like the cold person others saw her to be.

Bones straddled him. Booth's hands roamed from her shoulders to her back and cupped her ass, pulling her closer. Both of them were caught in the rush of their own gasping breaths, the rush of a river about to push them over the edge. Their tracings and roamings grew faster, hungrier. Bones leaned back against him and licked the base of his breast bone, and her silky wetness pressed against him. His hands again fell over her ass and rolled her back, and it was her turn to groan as she bit his shoulder.

Bones traveled down his torso, her tongue dancing over his chest, down his stomach, down to the base of his cock. Her tongue flicked over his tip, and his erection jerked. Booth moaned, his hand fisting the sheets. She licked him again before opening her mouth and taking all of him in. "Oh, god. Oh, god, Bones." A hot coil of ache and want threatened to overwhelm him as she slid up and down him again.

His need was too great. There would be another time. At least, that's what he told himself. There would be a time to sit and revel in every touch, every dip of her skin, every pant and murmur she released. But right now he needed to lose himself in her, be lost to her, be one with her. He wanted to occupy the same space.

_Break the laws of physics._

That's what she'd once said.

He pulled her back to him. Booth rolled over again, and Bones draped her legs across his back, pressing him closer. He positioned himself at her entrance. Her fingers knotted at the back of his neck. He kissed her once and leaned back to stare into her eyes. As he entered her, he held her gaze, studied the mix of the blue and green, and they stared at each other as he buried himself to the hilt inside her.

For a moment, he didn't move and just marveled in the sensation of her, the sensation of being inside her. Booth looked at her face, and she panted, her teeth biting the top of her lip. He leaned down and kissed her, a hand returning to thread her hair as she expanded to accommodate him. His breathing became labored, and the aching throb became too much. He thrust inside her again, and she gasped, throwing her head back, and his face fell into the space where her neck met her shoulder.

"Booth." Bones scraped at this skin of his back with her fingernails as he pushed into her, over and over. "Oh, oh." He leaned down, took her nipple in his mouth again. "Booth."

"Bones." It was all he could manage as he kissed her lips roughly. He sat and lifted her so that she sat atop him. The porcelain of her cheeks and chest were flushed, and a smile flitted across her face. Her shoulders twisted as she pivoted, and Booth groaned, pressing the small of her back to him. She rotated the other way, and something in the way she twisted against him caused bright spots to dance in his eyes. "Bones."

She did it again. He panted and thrust up, an automatic response. Bones once claimed she was great in bed. Booth had had no idea.

They fell forward again, and this time Booth let go. He needed her now. They gasped in tandem, thrust in tandem, spoke each other's names in tandem. And, when it threatened to consume them, when Booth was aware of nothing but their movement and the feeling of them together, they lost themselves in tandem. With one final thrust, Bones arched and shuddered around him as he spilled himself inside her. As she trembled from the force of her climax, he found her lips and sank against her.

They stayed there for a moment, locked in each other's arms, as their hearts thudded and slowed. Booth dipped his forehead to hers and looked into her eyes. All of a sudden, he recalled the swirl of her irises the day she confessed she didn't think was meant to be part of a family and their sudden shine when he told her that there was more than one kind. The shine that filled him with a hope he'd never known.

That was the same shine in her eyes now.

He smiled and brushed his thumb over her cheekbone. She smiled back at him, the small, shy smile he had worked so hard to win from her in the past. Only then did he roll over onto his back on the other side of the bed, and she followed his movement, nestling against him. Booth held her to him, synched the rise of his chest to hers.

"Booth?"

He nosed her hair and nodded. "Yeah?"

"Don't die." Bones glanced up at him. "Please don't die tomorrow."

Something caught in his throat. No, no, he could not die tomorrow. Not now. Not after tonight.

"I won't." He whispered this promise to her, kissed the top of her head.

Together, the dark washed over them. Booth fought against it, struggled to hold onto this moment. He had woken up, hours earlier, hard and angry and trying to figure it out. A kid (and he was really just a kid) bled out from a gunshot wound to the chest, a gunshot meant for him. And Bones…now, everything had changed.

_Everything changes. _

_Not everything, Bones. Not everything._

No, he hadn't changed. But, as the edges of reality blurred into the night, he smiled and pulled Bones closer as they fell asleep tangled in each other. He hadn't changed. But he did fall asleep in a different spot on the bed.


	2. The Pain in the Morning

When Booth woke, he was in pain.

Every morning, as soon as the sun knifed through the cracks of his blinds, the aches set in. Old aches racked his bones, old injuries that liked to point out that his injuries weren't the only things getting old. His right knee throbbed, his feet pounded from what felt like a ten mile run, and his back – always his back. As Bones had not so delicately observed once, his body was starting the process of falling apart, a process that hit its stride during the night and made every morning a torment.

But, speaking of Bones, this morning…

Booth felt a warm pressure against his side. He steeled himself before opening an eye to verify its source. He didn't know quite what to expect. He knew - _he knew_ - last night had been real the same way you knew your last meal had been real. You could name each food, even recall the taste of each bite. But Booth had woken up and known a dream was real before. He had bickered with a cartoon, detonated bombs with a ghost, and shared his bed with a figment of his unspoken want.

But the reality of last night – he didn't know if he could open his eyes. This wasn't a reimagining of himself in a different life, but the Bones he knew, whispering his name, her arms wrapped around him. Telling him that she loved him. Making love to him.

Booth swallowed, pulled that warm pressure closer. He didn't know if he could take it if last night was real in the way that his dreams had been real before.

A small noise vibrated against the nook where his chest met his shoulders. It was almost a mew, a feline purr, against his skin. Its signal and what it could mean caused his entire body to respond with its own satisfied hum. Booth sighed and let himself slide into that sensation of heavy sinking that accompanies perfect relaxation. Even if just for a moment, he could bask in this.

Then the alarm screeched to the left of his head. Booth jerked at the sound and swung out his hand, the edge of his palm pounding the snooze button over and over until he hit it just right. Booth eyes swiveled to glare at the machine. He sucked in a breath and glanced to the right, where the warm form stirred in his arms.

Ripples of mahogany hair. That's what he saw. They spilled over his shoulder and draped over their owner's face. A small hand was brought up, curled, beside a marble cheek. Booth brought the back of his fingers to trace it, feel the smooth fall of its curve. The form sighed, shifted, and tucked itself in deeper into the grooves of his body.

Bones. Bones here. In his bed. Tucked against him.

So many feelings and thoughts and images bombarded him, images from their past and images from last night and images of things he thought would never be. His entire chest cavity swelled in an effort to contain the pure emotion expanding inside him. Booth couldn't breathe. An overwhelming urge to roll her over and kiss her, make love to her again until they were both panting and sweating and moaning, struck him.

Bones whimpered and snuggled closer.

Booth leaned forward and kissed the top of her head, his nose nuzzling her hair.

No. No, this moment was perfect all on its own.

Now, Booth faced something of a dilemma. Normally, getting up, warming his joints, getting some food acted as the best remedy to temper the pain of waking. But getting up meant moving away from Bones, and he was fairly sure he'd be content to lay here, right here, for the rest of his natural life.

Though there was the small task of taking down Broadsky today. That pesky detail.

Booth sighed, but he smiled as he slid out from under Bones, and her face scrunched as she nestled into the indentation of where he had laid. He raised the sheet and placed it over her shoulders.

They had things to do, but those things would get done. Until then, Booth would make them some breakfast.

After he cracked the eggshells, Booth dropped the yolks into the skillet and listened to the tale-tell sizzle. With his other hand, he flipped the pancake with the spatula, the hot smell of a perfect browning earning a nod. He stepped back for a moment, snatched a slice of orange, a drop of juice falling to his wrist. He loved the sharp-sweet bite of oranges.

Footsteps padded across his floor. Too quickly. He turned around to see Bones swing open the door, his robe wrapped around her. He wanted to smile at the picture until he saw her face.

Her eyes blinked, examined the kitchen as she would note evidence at a crime scene, and then analyzed Booth's position in the room. He watched as her shoulders unwound, a weary relief settling in her features.

Booth cursed himself. Of course. He knew better than this. He left the bed empty. On today of all days. He left Bones alone in that empty bed even knowing how she had been left alone and abandoned before. When she woke up and saw him gone, he knew what she assumed. She assumed that he had gone after Broadsky and didn't even wake her up with a word for goodbye.

He grabbed a mug and balanced the coffee pot over it. He filled it to the brim and added two spoonfuls of sugar, no milk. He slid it across the marble counter. "Sorry about that." His voice was thick. "Should have had that ready for you." He glanced up to her face, not giving a damn about the coffee.

"I thought…" She trailed off, then squared her shoulders. She regrouped and met his gaze. "I thought today you might want a donut this morning." Something in her eyes flickered. "You have a strong preference for donuts."

Booth shook his head and grinned. "I have a strong preference for breakfast." He snatched the handle of the spatula and slid the egg onto a plate with the pancake. "And you have a preference for over easy."

A soft smile flitted across her face. Good. "Your observation is accurate." She moved forward and settled onto a chair at the bar.

"Of course it is. Gotta keep my partner happy." He winked at her. "That's the rule I go by."

Now, if he didn't know better, Booth could have sworn a hint of a blush crept into her cheeks, but he blinked and there was nothing but a half-turned smile. She tilted the fork and cut into the side to take a bite of egg. She swallowed and shrugged. "Yes, yes it is." Almost playful.

It was too much. Booth had to turn around, throw the bacon in the now vacant skillet to hide the shit-eaten expression that had taken over him. The grease popped, and the edges turned as the fat cooked. Booth loved breakfast. It was his thing.

The rest of the meal passed in an easy silence. Hands brushed while grabbing for syrup and butter knives, forks scraped against glass plates, eyes darted to each other and away. Booth reveled in it. He didn't need a discussion or verification or any of that nonsense. What he needed to know, he knew. He'd known since the beginning. Why bother with a damn timeline or titles? If she needed time, she had it. This was his reality right now, and he would spend the rest of his life making it their reality every day. He was all in.

Finally, Booth stood and collected dishes, running them under hot water and letting the suds flow over the tops of the cups. He brushed the backs of his hands off on his boxers and smiled. "I guess we've gotta get out of here and on our way."

Bones' brow furrowed. She turned away to look at the windows, still covered to prevent any chance that a sniper bullet could pinpoint its target. She looked back into his face, her eyes as hard as jade. "I need a shower before we go."

Booth's mouth ran dry as his ribs expanded again. He gulped and nodded. "Sounds like a plan."

The rest of his life. This is what he needed the rest of his life.

She swiveled off of the stool and led the way through his living room, pausing only to pick up a hair tie off the coffee table. With one hand, she twisted her hair into a bun and secured it with the other. Booth trailed her into the bedroom, where she shrugged off his robe, and he stepped over it onto the tile of the bathroom. Bones turned as she reached the precipice of the tub.

As Booth snaked his arms around her ribs, she stared up at him. Her voice was the same as the one she used to issue commands to her squinterns, factual, no-nonsense. "Don't get my hair wet."

A challenge, huh? "I won't." Booth kissed her neck, and his hands roamed the smooth planes of her back. He shimmied out of his boxers, and she stepped back and pulled him over the ledge. He shadowed her and twisted the nozzle, pulling it up to engage the shower. The showerhead jumped from the sudden pressure of the water, and Booth pressed Bones against the wall as the first hot drops fell down onto the porcelain and onto their skin.

Steam billowed in puffs around them as Bones spread her legs, allowing his full erection to pass between them, and he moaned at the soft feel of her. Her hand grasped the nape of his neck, bringing his gaze to her, and her eyes held his, resolute. "Don't make promises you can't keep." A few beads of moisture bounced off the walls and gathered in the small strands of hair that fell in front of her face. They looked like tiny strands of pearls.

_Don't die. Please don't die tomorrow._

_I won't._

Booth's throat tightened, and he reached up to angle the showerhead down further so that the hot spray hit him full in the back, shielding her from its full force. He leaned down and kissed her and pressed against her. Small rivulets of water gathered in the chasms where their bodies met and fused. Everything solid in him melted in the face of the water and heat until all he could feel was the liquid silk of her skin and the flick of her tongue and the rush of his blood. He pulled away, his arms still wrapped around her.

"I told you – I'm not going to betray you." He searched her face and he prayed right then and there that God wouldn't make a liar out of him. Because he needed this. He needed her. He would come back to her. "I keep my promises."

The look in Bones' eyes shifted to one of diamond intensity, and she pulled him down in a heated kiss. He leaned forward to meet her halfway, and her fingernails scraped against his scalp as she reeled him in. Booth tightened his hold, and he felt her leg lift beside him to balance on the ledge of the tub. Her right hand encircled his cock and directed it to her entrance. With a final glance, he grazed her cheek with his thumb. When she nodded, and he pushed himself inside her.

An overpowering heat washed through him, and he leaned a palm against the wall to keep himself from buckling under the power of the sensation. "Oh, god, Bones."

Her small hands gripped his hips, and she rotated against him. Purple spots danced at the edge of his vision as she slid up and down him, and he thrust forward again, eliciting a moan from her. "Now, Booth, now." Her voice hitched as he pressed into her again. "Don't stop." A mist settled over her eyes, like a fog hanging over grass in a low field, a look he was starting to recognize as want. "Right now." She pivoted against him again to emphasize her point, and he groaned into her shoulder. Booth's other hand traveled to the small of her back, and he tilted her closer to him as he thrust.

The water cascaded down his body as he honored her request, relinquishing all control and slamming into her over and over. Her moans echoed off the tile, and she wrapped her leg around his waist, granting him greater access. His hand found a breast, squeezed it, and she responded by biting and sucking at the skin on his neck. His breath came in gasps. He'd never felt desperation, desire like this. He had loved before and loved deeply before. But this intensity that scourged his veins now was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. He was doused in it.

"Booth, yes, harder."

He nodded against her, ever dutiful. He was aware of nothing but her cries and the feel of the hot water streaming down his back, the sign that her hair was still dry.

_I keep my promises._

For a second time, he lost himself in her. He thrust over and over until he felt her tremor around him, and she arched forward, her fingers clutching at his back. He groaned at the force of his own release, and he clung to her as he emptied herself inside her.

Booth kept a hand on the wall as the room spun around him, the steam buffeting his skin as he panted, trying to regain his breath. He listened as Bones' breathing settled as well, and she leaned back, her arms still draped over his shoulders. Booth looked up and met her gaze. Without a word, he closed the space between them and kissed her, tasted her, felt her.

When he pulled away, he stared into those eyes. Just in case, he wanted to be clear. "Bones…"

"No." She gave one hard shake of her head. "You promised." She kissed his cheek and slipped out from his wet grasp. She pulled an army green towel from the rack on the wall and wrapped it under her arms. She looked back to him while allowing her hair to fall back to her shoulders. She ran her fingers through the strands, somewhat buoyant in the humidity but otherwise dry. "You promised."

He grinned at her, impressed and awed by her capacity for trust and faith in him. He didn't deserve it. "I did. I did promise."

"So there's nothing to talk about."

He climbed out of the tub and nodded, his hand brushing her hair past her ear. "Okay." And it would be. Because, if she was going to put that kind of faith in him, he had damn sure better live up to it.

After they had dressed, Booth realized that they had never actually washed.

The drive to the Jeffersonian was interrupted only once when they passed the turn for the Hoover. "My car is still parked at the FBI." Bones tilted her head to him.

"Your Prius doesn't have tinted windows." Booth looked out the windshield now as they cruised under a red stoplight. He had turned on the flashers. He wasn't going to give Broadsky a good still shot.

He pulled the SUV into the parking garage under the Jeffersonian and parked right next to the elevator up. He faced Bones. "Now listen, don't go near any windows. Stay out from under the canopy today. I mean it. Walk on the sides as much as possible. And don't go outside for any reason, any reason at all, until you get a phone call from me."

"Of course." Bones had slipped back into her scientist persona, and she met his gaze with a short nod. But then she glanced to the elevator and the door handle, and she blinked before turning back one last time. "You will call? After you've gotten Broadsky?"

Her eyes flickered under the florescent lights, and Booth saw the pain in their shadows. Booth swallowed. He reached for her hand, gave it a squeeze. "Promise."

At his words, her head bowed, and her hair fell in front of her face. Booth wanted to reach out and hold her, pull her against him, but he didn't think he could leave if he did. Bones straightened, a mask settled back over her features, but she didn't let go of his hand until she had slid out of the car. Booth watched as she depressed the button for the elevator until the aluminum door shut with her inside. His last glimpse was of her, chin held high, as she swiped away a single tear with the back of her hand.

Booth felt the gravity of what he'd done. Once, Bones hadn't known that kind of pain. When he got to the Hoover and walked into his office, he faced the board with all the information they had on Broadsky. He had to finish this today. His mind was clear, and he could feel his pulse drumming in his veins.

He wouldn't put her through the pain of breaking his promise.


	3. The Whole in the Sum of the Parts

When Brennan stepped into her apartment, she pushed the door back into the frame until she heard the click, dropped her keys into the appropriate bowl on the counter, and cried.

The ring of the phone call had bounced off the metal walls of the lab an hour before, and she sprang for the receiver.

"Brennan?" She had felt the pressure of her pulse pounding in her arms.

"I got Broadsky. It's done." Booth's voice was firm, clipped, and alive.

"Yes, I..I understand." Brennan replaced the phone and turned to the others gathered on the couches. She experienced a sudden and inexplicable urge to throw up. "Booth got Broadsky."

Sweets was the first to stand, and he threw a fist in the air. Hodgins reached for Angela. The team cheered, and Brennan felt the chemical effects of adrenaline leave her system. She stilled her body to prevent it from shaking, her muscles as sore and exhausted as they were after a hard run on a Saturday morning.

Broadsky had been apprehended. Booth was safe.

Angela glanced at her and smiled. Brennan smiled back.

They had agreed to meet later that evening as a farewell to Vincent. They needed time, time before meeting again and time to reconvene in order to say their goodbyes. Brennan understood the anthropological necessities behind funerals and grieving ceremonies for the dead, but it wasn't the dead she cried for now.

_I'm not convinced that loving someone is worth it._

She pushed her hair back out of her face and stumbled to the bathroom. Brennan twisted the knob and let the cold water pool in her palms before splashing it over the contours of her cheeks. The shock of air against her wet skin bought her a moment's relief, but only a moment's. She opened her eyes and looked at her reflection in the mirror.

Dark circles marked pale skin. Red lines ringed her eyes, and her hair fell limp behind her back. She could feel her exhaustion in the hollows of her bones. She reflected that she had not slept but an hour or two the night before.

"…I got into bed with Booth last night."

Angela had not spoken at first. She blinked, her pupils enlarged, but she did not speak. Brennan shifted on her feet. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Because I don't want to yell 'hallelujah' so close to losing Vincent!" Her best friend gaped at her.

Vincent's name triggered the same fear, the same haunting guilt that had driven Brennan to crack open Booth's door that night. "I think I did it because of Vincent."

"Wait, whoa." Angela's eyes widened. This response could be due to several chemical reaction in the body, such as fear. Surprise. Shock. "So what exactly happened after you crawled into bed with Booth?"

An illogical break scattered the smooth circuit of Brennan's thoughts. She tried to force her thoughts into a linear line, but they jumped around like charged electrons. She could not hide the smile.

"I just got the GC mass specs on the bullet that killed Vincent!" Hodgins waved a paper in the periphery of her view.

"Honey, NO." Angela waved her husband away, her pitch now taking on a tone of demand. Not right now! I'm sorry. I love you, but go tell Cam. Go away. AWAY!"

It was irrational, but Brennan felt a rush of gratitude towards her friend. Their priority should be Broadsky. Still, she was grateful. Grateful that Angela cared.

"So. Tell me. What happened?"

_Everything happens eventually._

_Everything?_

_All the good stuff. You just got to be ready for it._

Brennan found that she had difficulty meeting Angela's eyes. It made no sense. She forced her gaze up, but the small grin remained. "Booth…Booth told me…" Her throat constricted, and she swallowed. She was the foremost forensic anthropologist in the world, and she could not get out one simple statement.

Angela's eyes softened. "Booth told you that he loved you?"

Brennan blinked. "Yes. Well, not at first. At first he told me that I was a good person. He said I was the only person." She looked down and knitted her eyebrows. "He said I was the only person for him."

"Oh my god, wow." Angela's eyes grew larger, and a smile drifted across her face. She waddled forward a step. "And what did you say?"

Brennan could not maintain her gaze, and she stared at the skeleton before her, for once seeing nothing in the bones. Her grin stretched wider.

"Oh my god." Angela covered her mouth with her hand.

"What?"

"You said it. You said that you loved him?"

Brennan noted the strong emotional response in her friend, one tied exclusively to her own confession of emotion. She swallowed, not because she didn't understand, but because she did. This was a big step, one she recognized. "Yes, I said it too."

"Sweetie, that's amazing." Angela's stomach brushed up against the examination table. She placed a palm on the edge and leaned forward. "And then what happened?"

As an anthropologist, this at least she could be scientific about. "We had sex." She paused and considered. "And again this morning. After breakfast."

Angela's mouth fell, and Brennan was alarmed to see moisture gather at the corners of her eyes. "Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

Angela shook her head, and she smiled, biting her lip. "No, sweetie, no. I'm just so happy for you. I'm happy for you both. You know, I've been waiting a long time for this." Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, and she muttered the rest. "Years, in fact."

But Brennan strained and shifted again. "I don't understand how you can be so happy. Nothing has been determined. I don't know what's going to happen in the future, between us or between our partnership. And these questions assume the fact that Booth can successfully take down Broadsky and survive this day, which is in no way guaranteed." She could hear the tempo in her voice speed up as she spoke, and she rubbed the back of her wrist against her forehead. She could not process her thoughts as she should. She could not compartmentalize. She could not think clearly.

She could not think.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Angela navigated around the corner of the table and faced her. Brennan stared at the table, illuminated under the opaque glass. "Brennan, look at me." She fought against it, but the compulsion to obey won out. Angela took another step forward. "Listen, I know you like to have everything planned out, and you like to have order and control and all of that. But, I promise you, sweetie, this is a good thing."

Brennan raised her eyes. She did not know how to formulate the building pressures in her chest into words. "Broadsky is still out there."

"I know." Angela nodded. "Then let's take this one thing at a time, okay? Let's get Broadsky. We're all working together. If there's something here in these bones, you'll find it." Angela reached for her arm. "You always do. Concentrate on that. Let's give Booth something to work with so he can come home."

Home.

Brennan pushed up off of the sink counter and pulled out her hair tie. She toweled her face, her eyelids fluttering at the soft pull of the fabric. She took a few deep breaths, and her mind cleared.

She wanted Booth to come home with her tonight.

Therefore, after they loaded the plain wooden box that carried Vincent's remains into the Jeffersonian van, Brennan looped her arm through Booth's. They followed the team through the dim cavern of the lab, out of security, and across the street to the Founding Fathers. They toasted, reminisced, laughed, and mourned. One by one, the others filed out. Angela tugged Hodgins off of his stool and out the door with a last glance at Brennan.

Brennan and Booth sat at the bar, facing each other, much like the night he had fired her years ago. Booth rested his head on his hand, staring up into her face. Brennan took another sip from her glass and felt the warmth in her chest as the whiskey slid down. She looked at her partner.

"You got him."

Booth nodded at her. Brennan had always been fascinated at the way he watched her, the way he did now, as if she were rare phenomena observed in nature that he could not turn away from. "I did."

She looked down at the grains of the wood bar, then back up. "Do you need time? Space and time? For rest?"

Booth shook his head, and his voice resonated from behind his ribs. "No.

Brennan tilted her head, downed the rest of her drink, and set the empty glass on the bar. She met his eyes. "Then you should call a taxi."

A light burned in his eyes. "Absolutely."

He stood beside her on the curb, hands tucked into his pockets, as she stuck out her arm to hail the cab. When it pulled up, Brennan slid into the backseat and held the door open for Booth. He hesitated a moment, and she tilted her head.

"What's wrong?"

A baffling grin appeared on his face, and he ducked and slid in beside her. "I'm just happy to be in the cab."

Her brow furrowed as she pondered his statement, but he just smiled at her. They scooted close, and she slid her arm through his once more and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt the pressure of his cheek against the crown of her head. When they arrived at her building, they climbed out without a word, and he shadowed her up the stairs and down the hall to her unit, hands still secured in his jacket. Brennan slid in the key, jiggled the lock, and stepped in. Booth walked into her apartment as she shut the door, and she turned to face him.

Brennan noted that it took two steps for him to close the distance before his hands wrapped around her and pulled her into him. His mouth met hers, and she tilted her head as she tasted him, reveling in the strange heat that started at the top of her spinal column and raced down into the phalanges of her toes. He gripped her tighter, and she clutched at the collar of his jacket. Booth rested his forehead against hers and opened his eyes. She looked up into his face. He looked haunted.

"Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?"

His eyes blinked, and his forehead creased. Worry. "I love you."

Brennan released a breath, one that she didn't know she had harbored inside her chest.

_Love is a chemical process which causes delusion._

She swallowed. Her voice was small. "I love you too."

Brenna had always loved Booth's smile. It reminded her of a child's. It was an eager smile, as if he was always trying to win something from her. Now, it excited her, puzzled her, scared her. It was an unpredictable smile.

As he leaned down to kiss her again and her mind blanked, Brennan figured unpredictability was something she would have to face now.

Still, some predictability would figure in. Her fingers reached for the buttons on his trench coat and tugged at them until she could push the jacket from his shoulders. Brennan felt for the buttons of his shirt next as his tongue tangled with hers. After two buttons, however, Booth pulled away.

Brennan shifted and raised her eyebrows. "What is it? Would you prefer to be the one to remove your shirt?"

Booth shook his head and offered her a different smile, one that she associated with instruction, such as when he informed her on current cultural events, idiomatic expressions, and emotional cues that she missed. It was a smile of good humor. "Not tonight. I just want to hold you tonight."

His arbitrary division lacked logical cause. She smiled and leaned in closer. "I see no rational reason why those two events are mutually exclusive." She let her arms slip around him and pull the coattail of his shirt out of his pants. Her fingers slipped underneath and explored the hard muscles of his back.

Brennan observed the bob of his Adam's apple as he swallowed and nodded. "You know, Bones, you are a genius."

"Of course I know that." She looked up at him, confused. He always insisted on stating facts already confirmed. But this time she could see the upturn of his lip that signaled his comment played at another purpose, and she smiled because he was the one that had taught her how to see those idiosyncrasies, to read the minute physical signs that indicated meanings beyond the literal. She had not been capable of that before.

_I just think - maybe I've lost my advantage because of all the people I'm involved with, all the relationships. They complicate logical thought_.

No, she had not lost her advantage. She had not lost her edge. She'd gained new edges, like facets added to a precious gemstone, each one adding to its strength, not detracting from it.

Booth still watched her with a smile. Brennan smiled back and tucked her head before turning and walking down the hall, past the bookshelves lined with scholastic titles and old artifacts, past the table where she'd experienced a strange flutter in her stomach to have produced something as simple as macaroni and cheese, and stepped into her bedroom. She could feel Booth's footsteps shadow her on the floorboards behind her until she crossed under the archway. She turned to see him hesitate, look left and right to scope out her room in the dim glow from the hallway, and grin.

"First the cab, and now your bedroom." Booth's fingers traced the red, gold, and black threads of her robe that hung off the back of her door. He took a step forward and strode to her, his arms again reaching around her waist.

Heat rolled off of his body, and Brennan could feel her heart rate rise in response. As he leaned down to kiss her again, she shook her head. "Sit here." Brennan pointed to the ledge of her mattress, and Booth sat as requested, the mattress dipping under his weight. His eyes stared deep into hers. Her hands returned to his shirt and kneaded free another button and another, leaning lower over his abdomen as she worked. When she was done, she pulled it off of his shoulders and allowed her finger pads to linger on the hard line of his collar bone.

"You really do have a perfect chromium." The statement was almost a whisper, but Booth's eyes flickered again, and his shoulders did a small dance back and forth, not unlike the puffing up of a bird at mating season. Brennan found she enjoyed his reaction. She would make an effort to replicate her results in the future.

She found she wanted more of this in the future.

Next, she knelt on the hardwood floor and tugged his left shoe off his heel and then his toe. She repeated the process on the other foot. She got back to her feet, and his eyes followed her, and Brennan reflected on the almost unlimited expressions that could cross his face. They communicated so much, most of which was lost on her, but she detected an earnestness, a vulnerability, as it was an expression he exhibited often in her presence, albeit not often to this intense degree. She felt her heart rate increase again. "Stand up."

Again, Booth did as ordered. Brennan's fingers latched around the metal notches of his belt buckle. She slipped the leather through the fastener and pulled it slowly through the loops of his pants. Brennan glanced up to see Booth swallow and start to twiddle his fingers as she worked. The belt slid into her hand, and she discarded it on the floor. Brennan knelt down again to undo the top button of his pants, tug down his zipper, and pull his pants down his legs.

She ignored his noticeable erection. For now.

He stepped out of each pant leg, and she tossed the pants to a corner on her right. Brennan stood and faced him again, and he leaned in but didn't touch her. His eyebrows knotted, and Brennan could not fight the smile.

"I have to confess," she shrugged, a small heat staining her cheeks, "I have imagined doing that again quite often since I removed your clothes for blood spatter and particulate evidence." Her voice dipped low, and she took a step closer. A sliver of space separated them, thinner than a stapes.

"I've thought of that every night." His words were rough, thick, and he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her to him in a primal kiss, his grip both tight and gentle. His presence and warmth threatened to overwhelm her ability to process her surroundings. For a second time today, she found she could not think.

For the first time, she embraced it.

She pushed him back to the edge of the bed again until his legs brushed against the sheets. He sat, pulling her on top of him, and her knees straddled his sides. His hands palmed her ass, which caused her to grind against him in response. She put her mouth against his ear. "Lay down."

Booth's eyebrows shot up, but he did as he was told. He extended with his arms folded behind his head as if he were reclining on a chair. Brennan smiled and began to unbutton her own shirt. Booth half-rose in protest, but she shook her head. "No. You only watch tonight."

"A show, huh? How did I get so lucky?"

She shrugged off her shirt and leaned over him, balancing on her forearms. "It's a reward system." She licked the space between his chin and neck, and he shuddered. "It's been scientifically proven that positive reinforcements offer far better behavioral responses than negative ones."

Booth panted, and his hands drifted across her naked back. "Positive reinforcement for what?"

Brennan paused and stared into his eyes. She remembered the tears. The terror and its release. She remembered last night. "For keeping your promise."

"Bones." Booth's voice caught, and he threaded his hand through her hair. "You're all the positive reinforcement I need."

Brennan froze. She found she could not breathe. Her throat tightened, and she swallowed. To her great surprise and embarrassment, beads of moisture pricked again at her eyes.

_The riddle you can't solve is how somebody could love you…The answer to the question that you're afraid to say out loud is: yes. He knows the truth of you, and he is dazzled by that truth._

Booth cocked his head to the side, and his fingers found her chin and turned it so that she was facing him. "Bones?"

Brennan sank down and pressed his lips to hers, her fingernails tracing a path along his side. Booth's response was immediate, his hand knotting in her hair and pulling her closer, his other hand slipping under the hem of her jeans. He swung them both over so that his hand could now work on her zipper, and he yanked one pant leg off, and then another. Her underwear was quick to follow.

When his mouth traveled to the tender skin of her neck, she released a shuddering breath. "What happened to my show?"

"I just need you. I just need you tonight." Booth's reply had a scratched quality to it, and he palmed one of her breasts under her bra.

Brennan's hand cupped the nape of his neck. She smiled. "You are a man of action." Her other hand slipped under his boxers and wrapped around his cock.

At her touch, Booth's eyes fell closed as if against his will, and he groaned as her hand moved up and down his shaft, squeezing gently when she got to his tip. "Oh, Bones." This time, his voice dipped low, a whisper, almost a confession. She increased her tempo, and a fire lit behind his eyes when he opened them. He dipped again and kissed her, his tongue causing a direct spike in her blood temperature. Brennan experienced an overpowering need to have him inside her.

She removed her hand and rolled them so that she was balanced over him again. She leaned up and bent her fingers over her bra strap until she felt the hoops release, and she let the bra slide off of her shoulders before tossing it to the floor with the rest of their wardrobe. She sat up on her knees and bent so that she could grab his boxers by the hem and slide them over his ass and down his legs. Those were also tossed to the floor. Brennan rebalanced herself over him and lowered herself slowly until she could feel his tip at her entrance. Booth watched her, his eyes burning. With a subtle tilt of her head, she impaled herself on him.

A rush of sensations swept through her, and Brennan moaned as she adjusted to accommodate his width. Booth panted and hooked his hands behind her shoulder blades and she rose and sank on him again. "Bones, oh my god." His chest expanded as she twisted against him. "Holy shit."

The feel of him created a cascade of electrical impulses that flashed across her body, impulses that made her feel as if her own bones were melting within her. She rose and fell on him over and over, and Brennan detected a gasp to her own breathing. Now, Brennan considered herself an expert in many endeavors, including intercourse, but there was a different quality to sex with Booth. It wasn't just the primal nature of his thrusts or the way his hands felt cupped around her ass or the way he said her name as she leaned over him and kissed and sucked on his breastbone. It had to do with the light behind his eyes and the expressions on his face, the ones she had dedicated years to learning how to decipher.

His face was she had witnessed before, in a church. It was a look of worship. And that face captivated her, lit a fire beneath her skin, and caused her to lose sense of her definite self to the point that she did not know where she ended and Booth began.

_But making love…making love…that is when two people become one._

Brennan needed him now. She rose up and used her legs to increase her speed. Booth leaned his head against the mattress and groaned. "God, Bones."

"Let go for me." She twisted against him again, and his hands fell back to her ass. They pushed her up and down in sync with her motions, adding force to her thrusts. "Please. Let go."

Booth leaned up so that his eyes met hers. She felt raw, exposed. She knew that he could see the desperation that drove her now, the same desperation and relief that had devastated her that day after his phone call. She needed confirmation and release, and only he could give her that. With a short nod, he thrust into her, and Brennan gasped. She increased her speed, a bead of sweat rolling down her back, her hair damp against her neck. Booth's breaths became more and more erratic. "Oh, god, Bones…"

A heat coiled in Brennan's core and finally spilled over, sending spasm over spasm throughout her body as she arched and tremored. "Booth!"

As she climaxed, Booth thrust one more time into her, and she could feel the warmth of him spilling inside her as he reached his own release, his hands loosening on her back. When her heart rate fell, Brennan sank to her arms over his chest. Booth's eyes opened, and he looked at her. His eyes smoldered. She cupped the side of his face with her fingers and kissed him. Again, she stilled her body from trembling. When she leaned back, they shared a smile. She rolled off of him and leaned against his side for warmth, suddenly chilled. His arms wrapped around her. She found she liked his hold on her.

The dark and the events of the day muddled her thoughts and pulled her closer to sleep. Booth's voice sounded far away. "Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?" She shifted her arm on his chest.

"You gonna wake up and regret what you see?"

Brennan was having difficulty fighting smiles today. "That would never happen."


End file.
